


BABYSITTER NEEDED!

by The_Whip_Hand_81



Category: AHS - Fandom, American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, Michael Langdon - Fandom
Genre: AHS, Adult Michael Langdon, Anal Sex, Antichrist, Apocalypse, Armageddon, Blood and Gore, Bloody Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Chains, Constance Langdon - Freeform, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, F/M, Fingering, Fondling, Leather Kink, Michael Langdon - Freeform, Morningwood song, Orgies, S/M, Sadistic Michael Langdon, Sex, Sexual Slavery, Stages of AntiChrist, The Sanctuary, Torture, Virginity, american horror story - Freeform, babysitter, first time masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-08-29 12:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16744357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Whip_Hand_81/pseuds/The_Whip_Hand_81
Summary: You are hard up for work and take the first babysitting job you find in the town newspaper. What you don't know is you'd be working for the future Antichrist and making sure (through the orders of his dear grandmother, Constance) that he doesn't *ahem* give into carnal pleasures.I hate writing summaries. lol





	1. You're Hired

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first non-Marvel fan fiction and my first "American Horror Story" fan fiction. I haven't written anything in months so when this muse of Michael Langdon happened, I couldn't ignore him. 
> 
> The link is to a song I referenced in a scene which helps visuals immensely.
> 
> I hope this story doesn't freak anybody out but freedom of speech and all that so *sticks tongue out* 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CtWh1Hapze8
> 
> =D

… is what the bold print headline shouts at you in the Want Ads section of the town’s newspaper. 

You sit at the counter of the diner, sipping on your cup of coffee, pouring over Want Ads for the last 45 minutes when the bold print catches your eye. You have been searching the ads since the daycare center you once worked for shut down due to lack of funding. Child care was what you did best other than having poor taste in men and drinking a whole bottle of wine all by yourself.   
However, this Want Ad sounded more desperate than the others you’ve been reading:

“BABYSITTER NEEDED!  
Young boy w/ high intellect   
seeks to be challenged. Needs stern   
sitter with patience/empathy. Will  
pay handsomely. Start immediately.  
Inquire C. Langdon 555-5768”

A strange sense came over you, you felt the need to call this number. You didn’t know why, but you did. You dial the number and after the second ring, a woman breathed into the phone as if she ran to answer it. 

“Hello?!” the woman panted on the other end. 

“Uh, hello, I’m calling --” you were interrupted. 

“Are you calling in response to my ad in the paper?” you can tell she had a Southern accent. 

“Yes, ma’am,” you say with a smile when suddenly you hear a cat cry out in the background and what sounds like a large pot crashing to the floor. 

She pulled the phone away from her mouth and shouted to whatever it was making the racket, “FOR CHRIST’S SAKE, MICHAEL, WHY DON’T YOU LET THAT ONE LIVE!” The woman with the pleasant Southern drawl returns to the mouthpiece, “I’m sorry for that, dear, can you start tonight?”

You hesitate at first but then blurt out, “Sure! Of course I can. I can be there at 5.” 

“Wonderful! I will text you my address. See you then! MICHAEL! DON’T PUT THAT THING IN THE OVEN!” she screeched before hanging up with you. 

You place your phone back in your purse and stare off into space for a moment not knowing what you’re getting yourself into. Having this odd feeling of trepidation and willingness to go forth with this new babysitting job to a child that already sounds like a lot of work. But you pay for your coffee and set out to your new house of employment.   
****  
You reach the address Ms. Langdon texted you at 5 on the dot. As you walk up the pathway to the modest home, you can’t help but notice it is right next door to that famous “Murder House” you’ve heard so much about growing up. Nothing but tales of horror and multiple murders that spanned decades and it is still uninhabitable to this day. No one’s lived in it since that family of 3 that died in it. You get a chill down your spine as you approach your new employer’s front door and ring the bell. You hold your breath as you hear high heeled feet quickly approaching the door. It flies open and standing in front of you is a good-looking older woman with a blond updo, a green floral dress and cigarette in hand. She smiles at you, beaming with light. She almost looks as if she could have been a former beauty queen in her day. 

She looks at you up and down, finally speaking, “My, my! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. You are more gorgeous than I had hoped. Come on in, dear.” She steps aside, welcoming you into her home. You slowly walk into the home as your eyes dart from side to side, observing your surroundings. Ms. Langdon strides along side you and gestures you toward the living room. She sits on an outdated Lazy Boy chair (outdated like most of her furnishings) as you slowly sit across from her by a coffee table with a porcelain tea set on it. She pours you a cup of warm tea and slides it over to you. You nod with a small smile and take a sip. 

You clear your throat when she asks you, “What’s your name, dear?”

“My name? Oh, it’s [Y/N],” you smile awkwardly. 

She stares at you with a plastered smile, holding up her half gone cigarette in her right hand, “What a lovely name for such a lovely woman….”

You look around the room quietly, feeling uneasy, “So, um, do you want to see my references, Ms. Langdon?” 

The older woman chuckles, scaring you a bit, “Oh, girl, no need to show me any references. I know you’ll be a good fit for my Michael. And please, Ms. Langdon in my mother’s name. You can call me ‘Constance’. We’re gonna get real close, you, Michael and I.” 

You clear your throat again as you look around the room, taking another sip from your cup of tea,“Okay...so, is Michael here?” 

Constance takes a long drag from her cigarette before leaning forward and putting it out in an ashtray. Her happy demeanor turning serious. She sits up straight again and crosses her legs, staring you down, “I like your face, [Y/N], it’s honest so I want to be honest with you.” She takes a long pause before exhaling and continues, “Michael isn’t like other little boys. He’s special.” 

You wave her off with confidence, “Oh, that’s okay. I’ve dealt with special needs children before.” 

“No, my dear,” she leans in closer almost in a whisper, “He’s... different.” The deadpan look in her eyes makes you shudder as she stands up and begins pacing the living room. 

“Michael has been through many, MANY babysitters in his young life. No one has been able to tame my grandson. No college bound, degree-gettin’, teacher experienced sitter was ever able to contain the awesome power that that little boy has in his one pinky. He outsmarted them all and won.” 

“If he has behavior issues, Constance, I can help. I have worked with many disturbed children and I’d like to think that I have helped them become well-behaved people -” Constance bursts into a boisterous laugh interrupting your glowing review of yourself. 

“Disturbed isn’t the word, Miss [Y/N]! More like... homicidal,” she chuckles and sits right back down on her aged furniture. 

Your eyes widen, “Homicidal?” 

She leans in toward you again, her deadpan face back, “My Michael isn’t like other children, Miss [Y/N]. He is burdened with glorious purpose and it is up to you to make him or break him. Help me usher him into a more logical way of thinking, living, feeling, doing to better prepare him for his future of leadership and power over all dominion and peoples.” 

You shake your head is suddenly swimming. You feel a bit confused, “Wait, what?” 

“I know you are the one to help him. I can feel it in my bones. You are the one we have been looking for. I’ll introduce you two before you pass out. Michael! Come in for a minute!” She calls out with a smile. 

You stand up and quickly the room begins to tilt as if the earth is leaning to one side. “I feel funny,” you say as you hold onto your head as if you were preventing it from falling off your shoulders. It is now you realize what Constance said ‘introduce you two before you pass out’.

“What was in that tea?” you ask as a tall 5’11 man with golden wavy hair covering his forehead, exotic ice blue eyes and pouty pink lips enters the room.

“Yes, grandma?” his young and tender voice innocently answers in contrast to his man-sized body and frame. He looks at you from across the room with curiosity and excitement in his voice, “Is that her, grandma? Is she really mine forever??” 

Constance squeals in delight, “Yes, she sure is.” 

Your body weakens by the second, your heart is racing uncontrollably and your eyes are crossing. You let out an exasperated jumble of words, “Whah..is...happening….help…” you fall back unto the couch behind you and see the ceiling. 

Michael’s face hovers above your face with concern as he says to his grandmother, “The medicine is working. She’s falling asleep now.” 

Darkness.

***  
You feel a warm hand smooth over the top of your head, down to your forehead then slowly sliding down your left cheek, down your shoulder, finally resting on top of your left breast. You try to open your eyes but can’t. You try to move your arms and legs but they feel so heavy, it is impossible. All you can do is listen to the heavy breathing. The warm hand resting on your left breast starts to lightly massage it. You can feel some semblance of sound come from your throat as you start to squirm your body. You begin muttering lowly then it becomes stronger and you’re finally able to let out a few loud words as your eyes open, “DON’T...TOUCH ME!” 

You see Michael sitting beside you, his right hand on top of your breast, his small eyes widen as he jumps away with fright. He runs to the corner of what looks to be his bedroom when Constance comes running in as if nothing happened. She reprimands her grandson, “Michael! I told you to stay away from Miss [Y/N], didn’t I? Let her rest.” 

Immediately your muscles start to get feeling back and you shoot up into sitting position, cradling your legs to your chest, scared out of your mind, “What the fuck is going on?! Why the fuck did you drug me?!” 

Michael points out in his small voice, “Language! Grandma, she’s swearing! That’s a spanking!”

“Oh, hush up, Michael. Leave the adults to talk,” Constance shoes him off into the hallway and closes the door. 

Once the door is closed you back up in the bed too far, falling to the floor with a thud and crawling backwards toward the nearest wall, clutching your legs to your chest again. You scream, “Don’t you fucking touch me, you crazy bitch!” 

Constance walks over towards you and sits on the edge of the bed with understanding, “I get it. You’re frightened. You’re scared as all heck because of what my baby looks like.”

“That’s no ‘baby’! That’s a grown fucking man! What kind of sick game are you playing on unsuspecting people?!” 

“Michael may look like a grown man but he is most certainly still a small boy. He is still a boy no older than 10. You must believe me when I tell you he is here to bring upon the end of days. To welcome the new Lord and Savior unto this earth.” 

“You’re just some fucking crazy old psycho with a mentally defective man playing some sick sexual fetish with each other. I’m calling the cops!” You crawl to the door like you’ve never crawled before, stand up and fling it open. You begin to run down the hall when you hear Constance call out to Michael in a bored tone, “Well? Don’t just stand there. Stop her.” 

Your feet are running but you’re not moving. You’re running in place as your feet frantically move. You stop running your feet for a moment to see that you are levitating 3 feet off the wooden floor. You turn your head to see Michael to your right looking at you and concentrating. Your face twists with horror as Constance bluntly commands to him, “Drop her.” You plop to the floor on your bottom, your mouth agape, looking at Michael who blinks at you wide eyed and smiling. 

“Neat trick, huh?” he smiles at you. 

You shake your head, backing yourself into a wall facing the grandmother and grandson. Stupefied, you relent, already giving up hope of leaving the house alive, “I feel like...like I have no choice…”

Constance lights a cigarette, “Oh, of course, you have a choice. Everybody has a choice.” She sauntered over to you, standing above you with a knowing smile, “You can leave now and go back home to your lonely one bedroom apartment. Maybe call your disabled mother and sickly father, tell them about what just happened to you...” 

Your eyes widen, tears forming, “How did you --?” 

“How do I know about your poor ailing parents? And your sweet little nephew and nieces who attend Palo Alto Elementary school? Oh, and your alcoholic brother? It’d be a shame if anything happened to your family, Miss [Y/N]. I get my facts from trusted sources...I’ve been watching you. And I know this much…” Constance kneels in front of you, putting her cigarette out on the bottom of your shoe, “You leave this house right now and I will make damn sure my Michael pays each and every one of them a visit.”

“And do what with them?” you sniffle. 

Michael proudly chimes in a few feet back, “I’ll do to them what I do to the cats. Slice, Slice! Rip, rip!” 

You shut your eyes as tightly as you can, not wanting to believe any of this is true. “Wh-what do I have to do? What do you want from me?” 

Constance, still kneeling in front of you smirks, “All I need you to do is be his live-in nanny for a few months. Teach him right from wrong. Be his companion without judgment or anger. Show him that there are decent people in this world, that he can and WILL be loved once he is reborn. Show your respect to The AntiChrist and future leader of this world and you and your family shall be rewarded handsomely.” 

You open your eyes again to see Constance waiting your answer with bated breath. You have to do this, you think to yourself, so your family can live. 

You inhale and exhale shakingly, “Okay.” 

“Okay, what? I need to hear your words, dear.” 

You breathe again, “Okay...I will take care of Michael. You promise my family will be safe?” 

Constance rises from kneeling with a bright smile, giving her hand out for you to take, “My sweet child, you have my promise. Now..let’s get you to your new room!” She pulls you off the floor, leading you around the house for a quick tour and tutorial on what to expect from her grandson. 

***

It is night time and you’ve spent the good part of the day crying as Constance told you tale after tale about Michael’s birth and misdeeds. You’ve cried so much, you’ve already become numb to it all. This was going to be your death sentence, you just knew it. Inside your new living quarters for the next God only knows how long, you sit at the top of your bed, clutching your knees to your chest again, leaning against the headboard. Streaks of tears have stained your face from all the crying when you hear a boyish giggle coming from your bedroom closet by the foot of your bed. 

“Michael?” you call out. 

The giggle subsides, “Sssshhh...go to sleep, Miss [Y/N]..I’m not in here.” He continues to giggle. 

Furious, you hop off your bed and run to the closet, flinging the door open to see no one inside. Your brows furrow in confusion when you hear a voice from behind you, “I told you I wasn’t in there.” You jump with a screech and spin around to see Michael sitting Indian style in the middle of your bed, dressed in his white t-shirt and blue flannel pajama bottom pants. 

“Get out of my room,” you say coldly and calmly, not meeting his steel greyish blue gaze. 

Michael frowns, “But my grandma says you have to take care of me. That’s what you’re here for.” 

“What do you want?” you ask agitated. 

A smile comes across his full pink lips, “A slumber party.” 

“No,” you walk over to your bed and point to the door, “Get out.” 

Michael puts his legs over the edge of the bed with a pout, “But you’re my nanny and grandma says I can do whatever I want.” 

“No, that’s not what she said. She hired me to teach you whatever it is she wants me to teach you. And your first lesson is going to be hearing the word ‘no’. So, NO! Now leave me alone!” you snap at him, walking toward your door to open. Michael slams his body down into your bed, burying his face into the bed, throwing a tantrum while weeping. “Get up and get out now!” Your hand on the door knob, Michael quickly stands up, narrowed eyes, his body looks to be vibrating as his mouth opens slightly. The whites of his eyes disappear as the lights in your room begin to flicker, the floor rumbling. You suddenly become nauseous, you want to vomit. 

Michael finally speaks in a low tone, “I said.. I want... a slumber party…” 

You give in out of fear, “OKAY!” 

The lights stop flickering and your sickness dissipates. Michael snaps out of his trance and smiles excitedly, “Really?!” 

“Uh, yes -- BUT only for one hour! I, uh, need to get some sleep so I can, um, better work with you tomorrow.. Okay?” you search his eyes for anything that might upset him but all you find is genuine gratitude.

“ALL RIGHT! This is gonna be awesome!” he shrieks jumping back onto your bed. 

You walk towards your bed when he points out, “But, you don’t have your jammies on. You can’t sleep in jeans.” 

You glance down at your day clothes and wave it off, just wanting to get this over with, “Oh, that’s all right, I’ll be fine.” 

Your side table lamp begins to flicker with Michael’s intense look when you changed your mind, “Okay, I’ll find pajamas. There must be something in here somewhere.” He smiles and gets under the covers, watching and waiting for you to join him. You look through the dresser drawers but only find a white tank top and boy shorts. You quickly change in the closet and awkwardly walk to your bed to a man-child laying in it. A man who you find extremely attractive, Satan’s son aside. 

You lift the cover and dip into bed next to Michael who is beaming with joy. You lay on your back as still as possible, trying to control your breath as he snuggles close to you. Michael rests his head upon your chest, his wavy hair smells clean and washed. He lays one arm over your belly and sighs out loud, relaxed. “This is what best friends do. They have slumber parties…” 

Feeling incredibly uncomfortable, you turn on your side and Michael begins to spoon you from behind. You stiffen up, afraid to say or do anything when you feel something hard pressing against your ass cheeks. You gasp and Michael notices. His eyes closed, he chuckles at your surprised gasp, “My grandma says that’s his way of saying he likes you.” 

“Huh?” 

“My naughty stick. Grandma says that when he wakes up, that means he likes you. But I must never touch my naughty stick. EVER. It’s a very bad stick,” he explains as seriously as a child can get.

Afraid to ask, you do anyway, “Wh-why is it bad?” 

“Because….” you can feel him shrug behind you, “she says if I ever touch it, bad things will happen. That the bad things will happen too soon before I’m ready. And she says I’m not ready yet so don’t touch the naughty stick. Sometimes it hurts when he likes something so much, but grandma said just think about boring things like chores or cleaning my room and it’ll go away.” 

“Oh...okay. Good, uh, to know…so...can you move back a bit so your naughty stick doesn’t..uh, you know..touch me?” you ask in a small voice. 

You feel Michael slowly grinding into your ass, “But...it feels...sooo good…” you can feel his breath getting heavier in your ear. 

“Michael? No..please..” you can feel yourself get wet as he continues to grind his hard erection into your backside, “Remember, the naughty stick is bad?” 

He lets out a quiet moan into your ear and grinds harder into you, “Mmm...he’s so happy to feel you, Miss [Y/N]...I don’t ever want to stop this feeling...ah..” 

You refrain from grinding back into him and leap out of bed before he got too far to stop, “Michael, I need my sleep. We’ll have another slumber party on another night, okay?” 

His eyes and mouth open, snapping out of his sexual trance, he shrugs and climbs out of bed, “Okay.” 

He leaves, shutting the door behind him. You lock the door and try to control the thoughts in your head. 

‘He’s just a boy, he’s just a boy, he’s just a boy.’ 

***


	2. Maturity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 'Naughty Stick' is touched...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Babysitter" by Morningwood  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CtWh1Hapze8
> 
> Chapter 3 coming soon!

The next few weeks consist of you dealing with Michael’s temper tantrums when he doesn’t get to have his way. Depending on where you both are at that particular tantrum moment, he’ll express his anger and defiance in various ways. If you were both out in the backyard and he didn’t get what he wanted, he’d make a bird explode mid-air above your head. If you were making him lunch and you’d refuse to give him ice cream before his sandwich, his mind would open all the cupboard doors and send all the dishes crashing onto the floor. But you didn’t give in no matter how much you had to clean up blood or guts out of your hair or how many broken dishes you had to piece back together. Constance was paying you to teach him how to be a “civilized human being” (so to speak) as she reminded you daily. You did find one positive incentive that worked for Michael in order for him to behave. You rewarded him with the promise of slumber parties in your bed on Friday nights, only if he did his lessons you were teaching him, cleaned up after himself and didn’t mame or kill a living creature that week. And, it seems to be working. You’ve learned that Michael can be a caring, understanding and loving person. You might even say that you’ve grown fond of him in some weird way. Constance, however, has a warning about that incentive. 

One night, three months into your live-in nanny situation, you send Michael to take a bath down the hall. Inside your bedroom, you turn on the old radio sitting on your vanity to prepare your bed for another Friday night sleepover. A knock on your door startles you, “Yes?” 

Constance opens the door, a drink in each hand. One lone cigarette in her right hand, she walks in and smiles, handing you a glass. You lower the radio and shake your head ‘no’ seeing the cup she is handing you. 

She laughs, “Oh, there’s only bourbon in the glass, dear! I don’t need to drug you again, I already have you!” her Southern drawl looser with some alcohol in her system. Makes sense, so you take the bourbon. 

“Wait..I’m still on the clock. I, um, shouldn’t be drinking with Michael still awake,” you protest as nice as possible. 

“Nonsense! You’ve been here a couple months and you need to treat yourself...you deserve this,” she sits at your vanity, crossing her tanned legs. 

You gently sit on your bed across from her and take a swig. You shudder and cough, “....that’s…..that’s strong…” 

Constance stares at you silently before speaking, “There’s something I need to tell you, [Y/N]. I should’ve warned you about this earlier but you’ve been doing so well with my Michael, I didn’t want to send you into a panic.” 

You take a swig, afraid of what she is going to tell you this time, “What is it?” 

She takes a long pull from her cigarette, “Has Michael talked about …. his ‘Naughty stick’?” 

Your face turns red, “Actually, yes. Yes he has and, uh, that’s something I wanted to ask you about…” 

Constance nods her head and puts the cigarette out in her now empty glass, “I have been warned by some knowledgeable underworld sources, what have you, that once Michael...how should I say this?... ‘discovers’ his body? He will age rapidly into his teen or even young adult years quickly pushing him closer to fulfilling his destiny as The AntiChrist before he’s ready. That once he...how can I put this delicately? Once he...ejaculates for the first time, he’ll no longer be a boy, but a more powerful young man with more abilities that he may not be able to handle just yet.” 

“.......oh…..” is all you can say, looking down at the floor. 

She goes on, “And I’m also told that once Michael loses his virginity - his innocence- he will fully mature into a man bringing into completion the full cycle of becoming The AntiChrist with powers so great, he cannot be stopped.” 

You gulp knowing what she is getting at. 

“So, I ask you…” she begins to plead, “Nay. I beg of you to stop with these weekly sleepovers in your bed. I don’t want my grandbaby to become overwhelmed with arousal that he has the need to jerk off and start the impending apocalypse early!” 

You shake your head, “With all do respect, Constance, I never actually sleep with Michael. I have a strict one hour rule of hanging out in bed, talking about the day and what he’s learned and I shuffle him off to his own bed without incident. It’s been working very well as you can see. There hasn’t been any violent outbursts or episodes of anger.” 

His grandmother stands up, her voice no longer pleasant, “You mean to tell me you’re not going to stop this, this gross and unusual ‘reward’ you have with my grandson?” 

You stand up, defending yourself, “You think my idea is ‘gross and unusual’? Take a look at the unusual circumstances you’ve dragged me into, Constance. It’s all unusual! And I can do this. Believe me, I won’t let anything sexual happen with Michael. It hasn’t happened yet and I promise it will not happen.” 

Constance’s nostrils flare before snatching your empty glass from your hands and walks out, slamming the door behind her. Angry (and feeling nicely tipsy), you turn up the old radio’s volume to a song that’s just starting to play, “Babysitter” by Morningwood. 

“...Baby, Baby, (your such a) Baby, Baby  
And one thing I chose to admit  
Is that your momma momma momma  
Shouldn't let me baby-sit  
Can I crawl in bed with you?  
I'll let you stay up real late  
And do what you wanna do  
If I can be a playmate  
(Don't) You can be my boy scout (you need someone to tuck you in?)  
But you gotta turn the lights out….  
….You gotta start sometime  
It might as well be now  
I wanted you to be mine  
Never let me baby-sit…”

You start to do a little dance to the song in front of the mirror. Looking at your own reflection as you sexily sway your hips in your white tank top and boxer shorts and listening to these oh-so-true lyrics, you become aroused. Thinking of a naked Michael in the bathtub at that moment and thinking of how much more powerful he will become if he just touched himself. Your hands start to roam over your curves; over your braless breasts, down your stomach, down into your shorts and into your wet center. You touch the bundle of nerves and gasp in pleasure not knowing a shirtless Michael is on the other side of your bedroom door, kneeling and watching you through the keyhole, a white towel tied around his wet waist.   
You continue to rub your clit, stifling your whimpers under the song. Michael looks down at his tented towel, “Uh oh…” he says to himself, “...maybe I can touch it just one time…” his hand slowly reaches underneath the towel and his palm grazes the full length of his erection, making him shudder with his mouth agape. He continues to watch you masterbate in front of the mirror and wraps his fingers around his cock and pumps once...twice...and intensely pumps six times. His breathing hitches and his speed more fervent. You are climaxing as the song is coming to its end and you let out a moan. Michael loses all control, letting out a cry of pure pleasure as he cums shooting a load onto your door. Exhausted, his head drops against your door. 

Hearing the thud on your door, you call out, “Michael? Hello?”   
No sound. 

The house begins to shake like an earthquake and you grab onto your vanity for dear life, not knowing what’s happening. Picture frames of flowers are falling off your walls, perfume bottles are exploding but not hitting the floor. The lights in the entire house go out. No sound, no movement. You are in complete darkness. You cautiously reach your hand out in front of you to start walking toward your door in blackness. The earth stops moving and the lights turn back on revealing a smiling Michael standing before you dressed in a black sleeveless shirt and ripped black jeans.

You scream in surprise, hopping back a little with fright. “Michael! Wha--how long have you been standing there? What the Hell just happened?”

Michael just stands before you, smirking with a secret. His hands behind his back, he tilts his head ever so slightly to one side, looking at you with lust in his eyes. You can see his whole demeanor has changed since his bath. His posture is better, his hair looks a bit different with golden curls parted down the middle and, if it can get any crazier, he looks to be a few inches taller than an hour ago! 

“Michael?” your eyes fill with fear knowing something catastrophic has happened but you don’t know what it may be yet. “Are...are you okay?” 

Michael’s chin lifts up with a small smile, his aura more confident than ever, “I’m better than okay…” his voice deeper, smoother than his usual squeaky childish tone.

“Um...kay…” you are completely taken back by his physical appearance and his newfound self-esteem, a bit turned on, if you’re honest with yourself. Your voice now quiet and small, “Um...are you ready for the...slumber party?” 

“Ooh, I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” a sneaking smile comes over his lips. Michael walks passed you and stands by the bed, presenting the bed to you, “Ladies, first.” 

Michael has changed, he is no longer the whiny little boy you have been caring for all these months, you think to yourself as you climb into bed. You lay on your back, heart pounding against your rib cage, not knowing what to do or how to act around him. Michael’s sultry icey blue eyes stay glued to yours as he climbs on your bed, slowly crawling toward you as he licks the side of his lip like an animal seeking its prey. You quickly turn over on your side away from him and get ready to be spooned as he innocently did every Friday before. But this time, it didn’t feel so innocent.

Michael grabs your hips and roughly pulls back into his erection and moans softly into your ear. Your breathing is hard to pace when his full lips touch the shell of your ear and in a low tone assures you, “Why so tense tonight, Miss [Y/N]?” 

You swallow hard, “I’m I’m not tense...I’m just a little...tired is all…”

Michael begins to grind into your ass cheeks with his hard dick, “Mmm, I bet you are tired…...dancing in front of the mirror and touching yourself like the dirty girl that you are…” 

You gasp loudly and try to pull away to get out of bed, but Michael’s grip on your hips is so strong, you can’t pull away, “How - you were spying on me?!” a mix of bewilderment and arousal flood your core. 

He tightens his grip on your hips and thrusts into your backside making you cry out, your chest now heaving with desire and fear. 

Michael words drip with sex, “I watched you pleasure yourself.” 

“Michael, please, let me go…” you whine. 

“I watched your hand slide down your stomach, deep down into your slick,” he kisses the back of your neck, “hot,” he kisses the side of your neck, “wet,” then kisses your ear lobe before finishing his sentence, “pussy.” 

You gather all the strength you have and manage to pull away just enough to be released from his grip.   
You are about to get out of bed when an unseen force throws you back onto the bed. You scream as Michael jumps on top of you, straddling your hips, wrapping his big strong hand around your throat. A vein pops out of his forehead as he gradually squeezes the life out of you. You claw at his hand as he slowly tightens more and more around your neck, his erection thrusting into your wet boxer shorts. 

He speaks between gritted teeth, “I saw you touching yourself so I just had to touch myself...mmh...watching you come undone...uhn..made me come undone...I just had to...ugh,” Michael keeps thrusting into you and you’re trying hard not to climax again. 

Your voice cracks through the small opening left as he chokes you, “Pl-please...I’ll..I’ll do anything….” you decide to play to his new ego, “...my Lord…” 

Michael takes his hand away from your throat and smiles down at you, “That has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? ‘My Lord’.” 

You nod your head incessantly, hoping to please The AntiChrist. He cocks a brow and smirks down at you,   
“You’ll do anything I say?” 

You nod again, “Anything, anything you want me to do I will do it.” 

Michael brings his face down to your face, noses nearly touching when he growls, “I want to know what you taste like…” 

You panic, “You’re gonna eat me?!” 

He lets out a thunderous laugh, “Not eat your flesh...no…” he crawls down to your hips and stops at your pelvis, looking up at you through hooded eyes, “I’m going to lick your pussy.” 

You squirm, pressing your thighs together not prepared for what’s about to happen but you have no choice. And you wouldn’t want it any other way. Michael pushes your thighs apart and rips your boxers open, revealing your mound. He brings his face closer and inhales your scent deeply. “Mmm, you smell absolutely...divine..” 

He licks his plush lips before diving straight into your sopping wet hole making you arch your back and yell with delight. He makes quick flicks with his tongue up and down then all around your pussy, lapping up every drop of you he can find. You entangle your fingers into his hair when he stops to say, “Don’t touch the hair.” You immediately remove your fingers from him wanting to continue. 

He moves his face back and forth with his tongue dangling, rubbing quickly on your clit. You feel a warm sensation starting at your toes, moving up to your feet and legs. You know you’re about to cum. You don’t want it to end. “Mi-Michael…..ah….I’m gonna cum…” you mewl. 

Michael quickens his tongue work and, without warning, shoves his two fingers into your drenched hole. 

You scream with pleasure as he removes his mouth from your mound, mouth shiny and dripping with your essence, he continues pumping his fingers inside you. “Cum for me, babysitter...cum for your new Savior..” he demands. 

“AH! AAAAAAAAHHUUUUUUUuhhhhhhnnnn!” you orgasm, your juices flow onto your bed sheets below you. He removes his fingers from your hole and sucks on them, calmly humming with approval to your taste on his digits. He climbs next to you and lays beside you, hands behind his head. 

“I can’t wait to taste you again...maybe in a few minutes…”

You pant and wipe sweat from your forehead, “Hey..uh, listen...your grandmother CANNOT find out about this..you touching yourself, you eating me out - nothing...she’ll fire me then kill me…” 

Michael lays on his side facing you, his head propped up on one hand as his free hand begins exploring your body. His fingers graze your left breast, making the nipple erect through the tank top. He smiles down at it, carefree, “You don’t need to fear Constance any more. I’m in control now. I have the power...you no longer belong to her. You belong to me …” he lowers his head and suckles at your nipple through your shirt, his hand inside your boxers once again. He touches your delicate area and you jump at the sensitivity. He lifts his head, looking at you and chuckles, “Still coming, are we?” 

You nod your head but aching to orgasm again. 

He lowers his head to bite at your nipple again, sighing, “Just wait until I fuck you…*softly bites*...you’ll see stars…” *bites hard, drawing a bit of blood* 

As crazy as it is, you cannot wait to see what happens next…

***


	3. The Antichrist is Born

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You make Michael into a man and full fledged AntiChrist.

Four weeks have passed since Michael matured into a young adult. He has become more in tune with his abilities to manipulate and destroy objects, situations and beings to his will. His confidence level has become so high that it bordered on megalomania. But you are learning to deal with his newfound superiority complex because, well, he’s the Antichrist. Do you really have a choice?   
Michael has since forewarned you about the upcoming apocalypse once he comes into power with the help of his Father and the measures you must take to survive. He constantly reminds you that your family may not be spared during the end of times and you will be the one and only survivor in your blood line (which sends you into crying fits on most days). Constance doesn’t seem to truly notice his change in behavior. She only sees that he is more interested in you than his own doting grandmother but she chalks it up to growing up and still knows nothing of his “self discovery”. 

One afternoon after a teaching lesson (more like after you spent the whole two hours sucking off Michael’s cock), you and Michael were called down for lunch. Constance made a remark about Michael’s new coat: a long black double-breasted peacoat with matching red leather gloves. Asking him where he could afford such luxuries. He simply told her the truth, that they were gifts from the believers and followers of his Father’s work. After Constance made you both grilled cheese sandwiches, she offered ice cream cones as dessert. Two scoops of chocolate ice cream for Michael and vanilla for you as Constance busied herself with the dishes not too far away from the table. You sit across from Michael, watching him hold his ice cream cone. You see a glint in his icey blue eyes, a smile sprawls over his thick lips- he has an idea.   
Constance begins to speak with her back turned away from you as she washes the pile of dishes in the sink, “You know, this dish right here was given to me by my first husband’s mother...that stone cold bitch. She knew I couldn’t stand her guts….” 

As she rambles on thinking you are listening, Michael’s eyes burns into yours as he takes the first lick from his chocolate ice cream with a long lap of his tongue as he looked into you. The moment his tongue touches the ice cream, you yelp out, feeling as if something touched your clit. He laps up his ice cream with his tongue again and it is like you can actually feel his tongue on your pussy. You shoot him a bewildered look from across the table and gesture that his grandmother is right there. He only smirks and continues to devour his ice cream cone while magically/mentally fucking your pussy and clit with his tongue. You try to stifle your cries of pleasure as Constance continues to babble on about exes and how unfair life is. You bite your tongue, you muffle your moans with your hands until Michael begins to nibble the edge of the cone. That’s when you orgasm, making Constance snap out of her stream of consciousness talking and spins around to look at you, “What happened, dear?” 

You, panting, look at Michael who is pleased with himself, reply, “I-it was brain freeze...sorry...you were saying?” 

****  
That night, while preparing your bed for the weekly “slumber party” which turns into a sleepless night of 69-ing, pleasuring each other in front of one another and/or seeing how long Michael can choke you before you pass out, Michael stands at your doorway with his hands behind his back, stating in a matter-of-fact manner, “I wish to have coitus with you.” 

Dressed in your usual tank top and boxers, you turn to look at him, “You what?” 

Michael slowly enters the room, hands still behind his back and walks to you, “Coitus. I am ready to penetrate you…” 

Although you are dealing with Satan’s son, the future ruler of earth, you cannot help but laugh in his face at the ridiculousness of his phrasing. His face contorts in confusion, “Why are you laughing?” 

You chuckle, “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to laugh at you. Sometimes I forget you’re like an automaton. So robotic and intelligent,” your hand swipes away an errant curl from his forehead, “...it’s cute.” 

Michael grabs a hold of your wrist and swiftly twists your arm behind your back, pulling your body into him. You scream in pain, “WHAT THE FUCK, MICHAEL! YOU’RE HURTING ME!” 

Michael breathes down your face, eyes narrow, mouth seething, “You think I’m a joke? You think THIS is a joke?!” His cherubic face morphs into a monstrously demonic grey face, black eyes and cracked/sharp teeth. You scream in terror and he flings you onto your back on the bed. His face changes back to normal, still furious. You crawl backward on the bed, “Michael, I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make fun of you! Please don’t hurt me!” 

Michael pulls off his black peacoat and black leather pants, exposing his already erect dick pointed in your direction. He grabs both your ankles and angrily pulls your body down toward him at the edge of the bed. 

You yell in surprise of his strength and clamour for the bed posts to help your body back up. But with his mind, Michael holds your arms above your head as his hands rip your boxers off, reveling in looking at your glistening hole and engorged clit. He smiles looking over your naked front, “My, my...someone likes it rough.” 

Your breasts heaving, rapid breathing, you open your mouth to protest but instead hungrily bite your lip with devotion and inclination. You spread your legs as far apart as you can and plea, “Fuck me, my Lord. I want to bring in the apocalypse with you. Give me the honor of being the one to take your innocence…please.” 

Michael pumps his stiff dick over your mound, “Ask and you shall receive.” And with that quote, he shoves his manhood into your sopping wet pussy and the house begins to quake. Michael brings your legs up to rest your ankles on each shoulder as he starts drilling into you at a quick pace. The quaking house is adding more vibration into your core, making it impossible not to want to cum so soon. He slams into you at an alarming speed, you can hear the sound of his balls slapping into your ass, you can feel his pubic hair rubbing into you. With hastened breath, Michael mentally releases your arms from above your head and commands, “Play with your glorious tits for Daddy…” Hearing Michael proclaim to be your ‘daddy’ turned you on in such a way it gave you strength you didn’t know you had. You ripped off your own tank top revealing your bouncy breasts as he thrusts into you. 

Your hands smooth up your stomach over onto each breast, watching Michael watch you pinch and massage your breasts, pressing them together, you moan. Michael’s breath becomes ragged as he leans over you, still thrusting his full length inside you. His now husky voice in your ear, growls, “You belong to me now…” he glances down at your fingers pinching your nipples and squirming underneath him, he hisses, “Yesss….YEEESSSSS!” His eyes fill with blackness as lights begin to flicker on and off, the whole house is shaking more violent and you can feel his dick getting thicker within you. “I’m gonna cum...” he growls into your ear.

You squeeze the walls of your pussy around his girth as he fills you up with his hot seed. Michael collapses on top of your body and seems to pass out. You call out to him in a small voice, “Michael?...are you asleep?” No answer. You sigh out loud, “Typical man,” and fall asleep with him on top of you. 

***  
The next morning, you wake up on your stomach, face smooshed into the pillow. You’re dripping with sweat. Why is the heat on in the dead of summer? You think to yourself when you extend your arm to feel around you for Michael’s body. Nothing. He must’ve been called for breakfast, you think to yourself again when you hear his voice across the room. 

“It is time for us to be on our way.” 

You groggily turn over and see Michael with luxurious locks of long strawberry blond hair, muscular and taller than a few hours ago. You fall off the bed in disbelief and shoot up onto your feet, grabbing the covers from the bed to cover your naked body. Michael, wearing a long black leather duster coat, black vest and leather pants, a red scarf tied around his neck, walks toward you with a satisfied smile, “Don’t be frightened. I am still the same person I was last night only...stronger.”

“Wh-where are we going?” 

“The sanctuary. A place we can thrive and live forever, safely without the sickened masses and away from the radioactive beings. It is time. We must hurry before the bomb approaches.” He hands you a robe to put on. 

“Oh gosh…..um...do I have time to pack? Can I call my family? Can I take a shower at least?” you rummage through your things in a slight panic. 

“No. We must leave at once. The carriage is outside waiting to take us to safety. Everything you will ever need is at the sanctuary. Trust me.” 

You stop to look at Michael who is smiling. Trust the son of Satan? I guess you have no choice. Just as you take Michael’s outstretched hand, Constance comes running into the room, coming at you with a butcher knife, “YOU FILTHY WHORE! YOU TOOK MY BABY BOY FROM ME!” 

You jump back from harm but Michael waves his hand in front of Constance which sends her flying back into the nearest wall, pinning her body up against it. She shrieks trying to free herself, still spewing words of hate, “You- You slut! I told you to stay away from Michael! You promised me! You promised me!” 

Michael calmly looks to his frantic grandmother, “You are no longer of use to me. Goodbye, grandmother.” He begins to walk away hand in hand with you. 

“WAIT! WAIT! WHAT ABOUT ME?!” she screeches. 

Michael stops and turns to look at her, “I’m sorry. We’re full capacity at the sanctuary. As I’ve already   
said, you are no longer of use to me.” The walls suddenly begin to swallow Constance’s arms and legs as she screams. He sighs and pulls you out the bedroom door with him as you turn to look behind you, you see the wall fully engulf Constance into the house. 

Outside, you see fire and destruction in the distance, plumes of smoke fill the air. A black horse drawn carriage is waiting in front of the lawn with two lone men covered in head to toe black hazmat suits.   
One of them steps down to open the door for you. You stop, weary of everything that is happening and happening so quickly. Michael sees your resistance, “I assure you, there is nothing to be afraid of, Miss [Y/N]...only the mutated cannibalists that will be on their way shortly.” You jump inside the carriage with Michael climbing in behind. The ride would last for 5 hours going through devastated cities and witnessing crimes of homicide and rioting. You spot a couple dozen mutated men, women and children along the way, begging to be saved or killed. You cry into your robe, not wanting to show Michael how scared you really are. 

After the arduous journey to “safety”, Michael helps you down from the carriage. You stare up at a small one storey building with steel walls and no windows, only a steel door. “This...this will save us? This looks like an ordinary tool shed,” you remark, Michael walking toward the door. 

He spins to look at you, his long hair flipping over his shoulder, “This is anything but an ordinary tool shed. It is so much more,” he waves his hand in front of the steel door and it slides open, jarring you by it’s loud noise. He extends his arm out for you to take with a smile and together you enter the much-talked about, much anticipated ‘Sanctuary’. “All we will ever need to survive is within this building.” 

Walking into the small metal room, the door closes, leaving you both standing in complete darkness. Suddenly, a blast of cold air bursts out from the darkness. You scream when he explains over the loudness, “This is only protocol to decontaminate us before entering into the sanctuary.” Then, the floor starts moving beneath your feet. You clutch onto Michael’s arm with your life as the floor slowly begins to drop down into the earth. 

Five minutes of being lowered into the ground, you are faced with another steel door. Once again, Michael waves his hand in front of it and it slides open. This time, revealing a massive living space. A perfectly sterile and polished live-in bunker with what looked to be servants wearing grey outdated outfits. You enter the space in marvel at the ornate woodworkings on the ceiling and the marble floors and expensive furnishings. You see a spiral staircase to the far left and a library on the right. The sheer opulence of it all is overwhelming. 

Michael gestures for you to follow him upstairs to where the bedrooms were. He leads you into a large and dark room complete with a fireplace and work desk. The lighting in all rooms seem to be low and lit by fire. Yours was no exception. 

“This is our bedroom,” he proudly announces. 

“Our? So...we share a bed now..like every day?” you feel out of place, almost in a dreamlike state. 

Michael chuckles, “Of course we share a bed now,” he presses his mouth onto the shell of your ear, whispering, “Now that I’ve had you, I am going to want you every day…” a chill goes down your spine when a female servant comes in. 

He nods his head toward her, “Follow the slave, she will give you a bath. Then you can join me for dinner and entertainment I think you’d enjoy.” 

“Oh,” you glance sheepishly at the stranger, then back at Michael, “I don’t need help with bathing.” 

“Are you disobeying my rules so soon?” his eyes like daggers. 

“Um, no. No. I’m sorry.” You follow the slave to your bath. 

***  
Once the bath is over and the slave dries you off, she hands you your clothes for the evening. You face contorts with concern, “Uh, what are these?” 

The slave girl looks at the items she handed you, “Those are the clothes Mr. Langdon provided for you.” 

You hold up each piece of clothing: a red leather bra, black leather booty shorts, fishnet stockings and thigh high leather boots. You protest, “These are not clothes. These are from a hooker’s closet.” 

The slave girl bows her head and looks at the floor, “Please, miss. Mr. Langdon requested you only wear these items until further notice...if you don’t, I will be punished.” 

You wrap the towel around your body and grab the articles of clothing she provided and storm out to find Michael. Down the hallway, you find him in his study, going through some files. His eyes meet yours, 

“Why haven’t you dressed yet?” 

You throw the leather pieces at his desk, “Where are my real clothes?” 

He rises from his chair and walks over to you, “Those are your real clothes. Put them on.” 

“No.” 

Michael gets in your face, “Are you defying my orders?” 

Remembering that he can become a much scarier version of himself, you realize not to make him angry again. “Um...no...no, sir.” 

Michael raises his chin up high with a smile, “Good. Get dressed and be downstairs in an hour for dinner and a show.” 

An hour later, you walk down the spiral staircase dressed in nothing but the red leather bra, black leather shorts, fishnets and thigh high boots. Michael, sitting on a lush red chair with his legs crossed brims with pride to the servants standing in the room, “There she is! The woman who helped bring me to this glorious stage in life. Come over here Miss [Y/N].” 

You awkwardly walk over to him, standing before him, self consciously being looked at by strangers. 

Michael looks up at you, his eyebrow arched, “Sit on Daddy’s lap.” You reluctantly sit on his leather clad lap, listening to the squeaking of your leather bottom on his leather lap. 

He brings his nose to your neck then pulls your body close to him. His face buried between your breasts   
as he inhales again. He muffles into your cleavage, his voice vibrating your chest, “I want to fuck you right here.” He licks up your cleavage up to your ear, “I want them to watch me fucking you until you can not function any longer.” You squeeze your thighs together for friction to your clit. Listening to him talk so obscenely does something to you. 

“But---!” he interrupts your thoughts, “I already have a show lined up for you. Bring her in!” 

Two grey clothed male servants carry to the center of the room a woman whimpering with her head beneath a pillowcase. “What’s going on?” you ask worried. 

Michael sighs, “This is our entertainment…” he gestures the men to remove her headcover. It is the female slave who gave you a bath. Tears streak her face. 

“Hey, wait, what’s happening?” you panic as Michael holds you close to him with a devious smile. 

“Remember when you told her you weren’t going to wear the clothes I ordered you to?”

“Yes?” 

“Well, since she didn’t do a very good job of convincing you to put on your attire, she pays the price for your disobedience.” 

“Wait, what----” before you can finish your sentence, one of the servant’s slit her throat from behind, blood shooting out of her neck like a fountain. 

You scream, turning away but Michael’s hands force your head to stay facing the dying girl in front of you. 

“LOOK AT HER! LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID TO HER!” 

You cry screaming at what you inadvertently done. You can feel Michael getting an erection watching such carnage. The servants let the body drop to the marble floor. 

You finally stand up screaming down at the Antichrist, “WHY DID YOU DO THAT?! I DIDN’T KNOW! I DIDN’T KNOW!” 

Michael stands up, facing you in disgust, “You’re pathetic.” 

You collapse to your knees by the dead girl’s body, sobbing. 

“Go clean yourself up for dinner,” he walks out leaving you a sobbing mess on the floor. 

You didn’t eat that night. You didn’t sleep that night either. You knew it wasn’t going to become any easier. This was your living Hell. God only knows what’s in store for you in the future….if there is a God   
anymore. 

***


	4. The Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being locked up inside The Sanctuary, you get a deeper look into Michael's kinks and depraved sadistic nature. 
> 
> Will you rebel or will you kneel?

Five months locked underground with Michael and his servants, you have observed plenty about the AntiChrist and his lust for acts of pain, violence, shame, anger and depravity. He gains pleasure from watching servants who volunteer to be tortured by other servants. He hosts orgies every few days, sitting at the front of the large room on his throne of red velvet and black diamonds, watching everyone strip naked and participate. He grins at the sight, having you watch beside him on your own throne. You have witnessed countless times where Michael strung up some poor servant - male or female - and begin flirting with them. Rubbing up against their backside, groping their private parts and having them suck on his fingers before ripping their hearts out through their abdomens. Michael is ambiguous when it comes to his sexuality. He has no favorites. It is whomever attracts him at the moment. As for the orgies, he never asks you to participate. In fact, Michael is so protective of you that if any other man should look your way, he would have him decapitated. Just last week, a male servant asked you if you would like butter on your toast and Michael stared so hard at the servant, he made him combust into flames. So, you have no friends or close allies except for Michael. And you have become so lonely and in such a deep depression not knowing if your family is safe or not. You just hope that wherever they may be, they’re okay. And if they did not survive, they died peacefully.

One night, Michael invites you into the Shackles room. It is exactly what it sounds like: a circular room lined with candles all around with a pair of shackles hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room. You enter behind Michael and see a stunningly handsome man in his boxer briefs shackled to the ceiling. This tall muscular man with parted brown hair and blue eyes looks at you with a worrisome smile. 

You can tell he’s trying to be brave for the sake of appearances. You like this one. You wonder why you haven’t seen him around the compound before. You would’ve masterbated to his image a long time ago! 

You stand in front of the man in your daily leather outfit. Michael stands behind the man with a smile as his fingers delicately trace the man’s back muscles, “Isn’t he beautiful? A masterpiece...don’t you think?”

You hesitate, “Is this a trick question?”

“No,” he traces his fingers alongside his spine and around to his obliques, “Would you like to touch him?” 

“Um….I’m not sure what the right answer is…” you watch Michael begin to fondle the man from behind, grabbing the handsome man’s package through his boxer briefs, making the man groan. 

“Come over here, Miss [Y/N]...stand in front of him…” 

You step closer to the chained man and the new sexy man smiles down at you. You smirk as Michael continues to rub the man’s erection from behind. Michael asks you, “Do you want to kiss him?” 

“No,” you reply sheepishly. 

“I won’t be cross with you if you do. In fact, I insist that you kiss him..”

You look over the man’s shoulder to Michael for confirmation, he nods his head in approval. You haven’t kissed a man in months. Michael never lets you kiss those pouty lips, ever. So to get a chance to kiss an attractive man is a gift! 

You place your hands on the stranger’s muscular chest and tip toe to kiss his full lips. You step down but looking up into his eyes, seeing he’s being pleasured by Michael, you grab him by the back of the head and pull him down crushing his lips into yours. You moan as the man groans with pleasure. You can hear   
Michael cooing behind him, “Yes...that’s it….Daddy’s dirty little slut want more?” You continue to mash your lips and tongue into the man’s mouth and nod at the question. 

Michael smiles, “Do you want to suck his dick?”

Without further questioning, you drop to your knees and whip out the handsome stranger’s perfect cock and swallow it into your mouth. The man yelps in gratitude as your head bobs back and forth on his member. At this time Michael is now standing behind your kneeling form, relishing in your enjoyment. 

He gently touches your bobbing head with approval and asks in a loving tone, “What if I were to tell you this is the man who killed your family?” 

You stop mid-bob and pop the penis out of your mouth with eyebrows furrowed. “What?” 

Michael kneels behind you, “...Massacred in their beds while they slept….except poor little Emmy…” 

You slowly stand up, staring down the chained man with tears beginning to blur your eyes, “......”

Michael continues, “..she tried to fight him off but her tiny hands were no match for his brawn...he slit her throat last…” 

The man now trembling where he stood began to blubber with tears of his own, “I’m sorry…..I’m so so sorry….please! He ordered me to do it! Please forgive me!” 

You summon the deepest loudest beastly scream from the pit of your soul and grab a 12 inch machete hanging on the wall and shove it into the chained man’s belly, exiting through his lower back. You feverishly start stabbing him over and over and over as you scream with tears soaking your face mixing in with his spattered blood on your face. 

Michael yells over your screams and stabbings, “FEEL THE HATE! THE ANGER! THE RAGE FLOW WITHIN YOU! LET IT TAKE OVER!” 

You cut the man down by his wrists, cutting off his hands, and he slumps to the floor on his face, buttocks up in the air as you repeatedly stab him in his back. You, bent over the bloody pile of man still in a rage, Michael sees his opportunity to have his way with you. He stands behind you, unbuckles his pants and pulls him length out to run along your ass cheeks. He lowers your shorts and thrusts his erected cock into your asshole. You drop the knife and shriek in pain and surprise. Michael uses the dead man’s blood as lubrication into you and huffs and puffs, thrusting into your backside. “Such a tight little asshole...uhn...so perfect...uhnn, so good….ah….” he pulls your hair back as he rides your ass sloppily on top of the dead man’s body. 

You cry out in emotional pain but also physical pleasure. Your life is really gone. It’s time to live up the shitty life you have going now… “Faster, Daddy Langdon….harder….cum inside me…” 

With those words a an ungodly roar, Michael buckles into your ass one last time before coming and removing himself from your now wide hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, left kudos and commented on this story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much I enjoyed writing it (because it forced me to re-watch and re-watch this season's episodes:)


	5. The Final Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finds your hidden secret and he is none too pleased.   
> But once your punishment is dealt, you find a way to get even.

You have been at the mercy of Michael for months now. Your family was brutally murdered by one of his willing minions, you have no friends, no hope, nothing. Nothing but your depression to keep you company. Sure, you have Michael but having Michael is like having a poisonous snake as a lover. Actually. That’s exactly what it’s like. 

You know from keeping tabs on a hidden sheet of paper you’ve hidden since you got there that December has begun. Michael doesn’t allow you to have access to the internet unless he is hovering over your shoulder...and it is something he wants you to look at. Secretly, you have made yourself a small Christmas tree in the back of your walk-in linen closet. You took a plunger, covered it with a green towel and decorated the towel with red garland made of strips from one of Michael’s many red silk scarves. You even ripped up white paper into tiny pieces to sprinkle all around the faux tree like snow. You visit the tree every morning and every night before bed. It is the only thing that brings you joy and reminds you you were once a human with a loving family. 

You kneel in front of the towel tree and smile then sob. 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me…” Michael says unamused, standing behind you with his arms folded across his chest. 

You quickly turn your head to see him and with a twitch of his wrist, his hand waves at the towel tree, combusting in flames. 

“NOOOO!” you scream watching the orange fire take the last thing you loved and jump up to charge Michael. You jump at him but he catches you in mid-air, flinging you over his shoulder. You scream, hands beating at his back and feet kicking his front. He brings you to the Shackles Room and chains you up to the ceiling as you kick and screech and seethe. 

Michael takes his hand and squeezes your cheeks between his fingers and thumb, furious, “You secretly worship a false idol whilst in the presence of ME? The fucking Antichrist!?” 

You spit in his face and you slaps you across yours with his red gloved hand, “You will pay for your insolence.” 

Michael lets your face go to walk off to a table where he keeps implements of torture handy. He returns to your backside with a long leather whip. You stay unbelievably still, not breathing waiting to be whipped. 

Silence.

He cracks the whip near your leg and you yelp in fright by just the sound. 

Again, silence. 

*CRACK* This time he hits your back, cutting the leather bra strap open, dropping it at your feet. You scream in pain. *CRACK* The whip cuts your shoulder; you scream again. *CRACK* The whip gashes your spine and your howl turns into a deep throated laughter. Michael stands in front of you with curiosity, 

“Does this excite you?” 

After your laughter trails off, you shake your head with a knowing grin, “Nooo….but you’ll see soon enough, my Lord and Savior...you’ll see…” 

Michael arches his brow and shrugs, continuing to lash you several more times before letting you down and heading downstairs for his nightly glass of wine before bed. You clean yourself up, put on your silky red nightie and head downstairs with a plan you’ve been practicing for the last couple weeks. 

Michael sits by the fireplace in the large plush chair, ankle crossed over his knee. His hand propped up in the air waiting for one of the servants to bring him his red wine as he stares at the crackling fire. You quietly make your way to the servant walking down the small hall with Michael’s goblet of wine in his hand and intercept the delivery. You whisper, kindly, “May I take this to Michael? I feel like I need to beg for his forgiveness with this drink in order to get back into good graces with him again. Please?” The man did not look you in the eye but nodded in acceptance, handing you the glass. “Thank you,” you smile, watching the server walk away. You quickly pull a tiny glass vial from underneath your nightie, pouring it into wine. You throw the vial behind you as you walk it to him. 

Standing a few feet from him, you smile with his drink in hand. He looks at you and smiles, pleased with himself, “Well, well. Looks like you have decided to come to your sense…”

Gritting your teeth, you try not to blow your cover, “I did...I wanted to apologize for the whole Christmas thing. It, uh, was rude of me...I wanted to bring you your wine as a sign of good faith.” 

You take a step forward when he commands, “Bring it to me on your knees.” 

You try not to sneer as you lower yourself and walk on your knees to him. You hand him the glass and he takes a small sip with a smile. “Now,” he continues, “Get on your hands and knees.” You do as he says. 

Michael then puts his feet up onto your back; you are now his ottoman. He crosses his ankles and takes another languid sip and declares, “I don’t think the wine has ever tasted so sweet.” 

“No? Well,” you chuckle, “it could be the drugs I slipped in there.” 

On cue, Michael’s arm becomes limp and he drops the wine glass to the floor, shattering it. His head bobbles from side to side, trying to keep it up high as you rise from the floor. His eyes bewildered, he tries to get up but slumps back down into the chair. 

“Wwwwha wha have you done?” he slurs as his head slumps to the side, eyes still looking up at you. 

“Took a page from your dear old grandmother’s book, that’s what I’ve done,” you fold your arms over your chest now.

“....yyyyyou….bitc-” 

“Goodnight, my Prince of Darkness,” you say sweetly as he passes out cold. 

****  
Michael wakes up. His head is pounding, the lights of the candles are too bright for his eyes. He goes to feel his temples but can’t - his arm cannot move. Neither can the other arm. Nor his legs, for that matter. 

Michael snaps his eyes wide awake and realizes he is hanging in the Shackles Room like all his servants before him! Only wearing his black leather pants and boots, he struggles to pull on the chains. He then tries to break the chains with his powers but NOTHING. He’s never lost his powers before. He begins to panic and struggle with the chains on his wrists and ankles, almost whimpering. 

You enter the room wearing a long black gown and the biggest smile you have had in a very long time. 

“Hello, Michael.” 

“What did you do to me!?” his voice has fear to it. 

“Found your stash of quaaludes that you’ve been hiding in my food and drink to keep me weak all this time.”

“Why can’t I break these chains? Where are my -” 

“Your powers? You still have them, don’t worry. But, I’ve learned to bind them for a while. You really should keep your spell book from the Hawthorne School locked away, Harry Potter. You have TONS of people here ready to use it against you should they find it as easily as I did.” You walk to the torture table.

Michael shifts in the chains, worry in his face as he pulls the chains on his wrists, “You don’t know what you’re doing…” 

You walk over to Michael with a ball gag in one hand and a dagger in the other. You look down at the objects in your hands, “From the looks of it, I know exactly what I’m doing.” You force the ball gag around 

Michael’s head and stuff the red ball into his shocked mouth. As he murmurs underneath the gag, you take the dagger and drag it along the length of his muscular arm. He shivers and screams behind the ball. 

You giggle and take the blade and slice it along the other arm, his body quivering in pain. 

You step closer to his ear and whisper, “Are you in great pain?” 

He nods to placate you but you shake your head, “I don’t believe you.” You take the dagger and slowly drag it alongside his ribcage, blood dripping down to his waistband. 

You ask again, “Are you in great pain?” 

He murmurs and nods his head yes. “I don’t believe you”. You jab the dagger into his shoulder. Blood gushes down his arm. 

You place the point of the dagger to his Adam’s apple, “You will kiss me.” He nods his head in agreement. 

You remove the ball gag from his mouth and stare into his blue eyes. “Kiss me like you love me.”

Michael lowers his head to you and brings his plush pink lips to yours, his tongue enters your mouth, thrashing about with yours. You both let out moans neither of you have ever heard from each other before. Your free hand clutches around his bloody waist to keep his body close as he devours your lips. 

You break free from his kiss, seeing he wants more. 

You take a step back and ask again, “Are you in great pain?” 

Michael stares at you and, for the first time, see something in his eyes you’ve never witnessed before. Not anger, not vengeance, not sadness but softness and...affection. 

Michael breathes and asks softly, “Kiss me again.” 

“No.” 

“Please, kiss me again…” 

“No.” 

He pleads like he’s never done before, almost sounding like a child again, “I need...I need to feel you…please.” 

“No,” you calmly protest. 

“I need you...no one...no one has ever helped me the way you have...no one has ever shown me such love and attention….please.. Kiss me…” he whines. 

“Are you in great pain?” you ask again. 

“Not if you are by my side! Please, Miss [Y/N].” 

“So, you are claiming to love me?” 

“YES! But I have always loved you! I - I was just never shown how to express this weakness...so please...love me…” a tear rolls down his fair cheekbone. 

You tilt your head, flat affect, “You are being sincere.” 

He sniffles and nods. 

You take a step back once more, “Now you understand how it feels.” 

His brows meet with confusion, “Understand how what feels?” 

“How it feels to lose someone you love.” 

“Huh?”

You drive the dagger into your chest and Michael screams, “NO!” 

You crumple to the floor as Michael shouts blood-curdling screams of your name as dozens of servants come run into the room in awe. Michael finally regains his powers and breaks from the shackles, rushing to your side and lifting your lifeless body into his bloodied arms, sobbing into your hair. 

You are finally free.


End file.
